


All I Can Taste Is The Sugar In Your Hair

by LandOfMistAndSecrets



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anal Sex, Bulges, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Sex Pollen, Smut, Tricksters, Xeno, mild dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 03:29:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8430106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LandOfMistAndSecrets/pseuds/LandOfMistAndSecrets
Summary: Trickster Dave is a god damn treasure and no one can tell me otherwise. Some scenes from the Rosemary wedding, but really, this is about Dave being high on cherub candy and really, really, really wanting his boyfriend to fuck him. (Not intended to be dubcon, but if you have issues with altered mental states or pushy partners in the context of an established relationship it might be not great for you! Take care.)





	

He wakes up, and his first thought is _jesus, my eyes are straight up full of shit, right now._ Someone must have been paying the sandman some major fucking overtime last night, because his eyelids actually _stick_ slightly when he tries to open them. Gross. He tries to lift a hand to rub at them, but his limbs feel strangely heavy. He sucks in a breath. Something is not right about this situation. His throat is sore. Is he fucking sick? Gods should not be susceptible to illness, at least not the _literally ill as in I might have to actually throw up_ sort of way, what bullshit. 

A redoubled effort to get his eyes open yields positive results, which immediately become negative, because the sunlight streaming in through the window is like a needle shot with roxy-tier precision directly through his corneas and into the raw nerve centers of his bewildered brain. He jerks his hands up instinctively -- they obey, this time -- and slaps them over his face. He groans. Fuck being sick, this is more than sick. This might be _dying._ Did he become mortal again overnight? Is this some kind of fucking bullshit fairy tale kind of curse thing, like he's the star of some shitty movie for kids about learning the dangers of hubris and merits of humility? 

"Karkat," he says, and winces at the way his voice scrapes out from between his cracked lips. He tries to swallow, but he can't round up enough spit to manage even that. There's a strange taste in his mouth, sweet and sour. "I think I might be fucking dying, man." He flings an arm out, expecting it to bludgeon his boyfriend awake beside him. Instead, his arm just kind of flops out and lands on the mattress, connecting with nothing useful at all. Another groan. There's still shit in his eyes, and frankly, he's afraid to try opening them again. He's got tears threatening to leak out the corners from the first attempt. This wouldn't be a problem if Karkat would let him sleep with his fucking shades on, probably. 

The noise he makes is truly pathetic, but he's actually a little worried, now. The more awake he gets, the more _aware_ of things he becomes, and he's quickly realizing that awake and aware are two things he very much does not want to be. For one thing, his head hurts. Like, bad. Something is throbbing dully right behind his eyes and he just knows, like with the world's most pessimistic yet inevitably correct instincts, it's going to get worse. His mouth is so dry it's physically painful, like it's full of glue and sandpaper. What little moisture he can muster is weirdly thick and sickly sweet-tasting, which makes his gorge rise right up and nearly boil over right then and there. He tries taking a deep breath. His gut flutters dangerously, and jesus _fuck_ , is there no part of his fucking system that is properly fucking functioning, right now? He is a literal _God._

"This is bullshit," he says out loud, only it comes out in a petulant, not entirely audible mutter. He tries licking his lips again. Not very effective. There's something on his head. He pats at it with one hesitant hand. What is this? It's wet, he realizes, fingers yanking away from it, startled. "I cannot fucking believe I'm about to literally die from post wedding flu or whatever, I swear to fuck, I knew there was something off about that cake, I can't believe everyone was just like oh, yeah, Crocker brand merchandise, that's _totally_ legit, like no one's ever learned a god damn lesson in their lives!" Something occurs to him, and he snaps his mouth shut, brow furrowing. 

Post wedding flu. Right. The wedding. Last night. His fingers splay out over the wet shit on his forehead, and he realizes in a rush of epiphany that he is gently carressing a fucking _towel_ on his face. Wet towel. Okay. There's an explanation for this. Maybe. He lets his hand drop. 

"Let's try this again," he says, conversationally, because if Karkat doesn't have the decency to sit with him on his fucking deathbed he can at least be polite company for himself. "You need to fucking see, and since you're pretty lacking in TZ's magic dragon powers you should probably assume that in order to do that you're going to most likely need your damn eyes, so stop being a shitty whiny-ass child about it and just open the fuck up!" 

It's easier now that he knows to avoid looking directly at the window. It still sucks. A lot. He barks out a harsh laugh -- his stomach lurches -- and blinks back a fresh onslaught of light-protest tears and thinks about what a god damn unsightly mess he must look like right now. Holy shit. Not fucking cute, Strider. What the fuck is his damage? 

Wedding. Cake. Something about the cake. "No," he corrects his internal dialogue, thinking. "Not the cake. Before the cake. _Callie._ " 

* 

He leaned forward and watched Rose sweep in like some kind of dapper, suited-up queen with another taller, greyer, significantly more gussied up queen proudly hooked on her arm-in-arm. He watched her watch Kanaya, grinning so hard his cheeks actually hurt, but he couldn't fucking stop. He studied her face. The way she was smiling. The way she was _blushing_ , knowing Rose hated blushing in public almost as much as he did. But there she was, and it was plain to see that she didn't give a single _fuck_ what anyone thought about it. He was so happy for her that it was actually a little painful, like his chest was an unsuitable vessle for the out of control spectacle of his own beating heart. Karkat was honest-to-god sniffling beside him, and part of him wanted to grab his hand and yank him close and maybe tease him a little, because it was a golden opportunity for that, sure, but he couldn't quite bring himself to do it. Not with everyone all there, even though no one was even looking at them. 

Rose moved her head just a fraction, her eyes cutting across the room, finding his and landing on them. Suddenly he was _far_ too aware of the stupid fucking look on his face, but he was too slow fixing it and Rose's response to watching him try was just to quirk her eyebrow in that all-knowing way she had. Fuck it. He shrugged. Rose mouthed something at him. He thought she was probably calling him a dork, except using some sort of way too intellectual word to do it with. It was probably a fair assessment anyway. He waggled his eyebrows and puckered his lips like he was air-kissing at her, part of him fervently hoping no one else would see him doing it.

Never one to back down from a challenge, Rose flattened her lips at him, winked and turned to her wife. Actual wife, god damn. She tapped Kanaya's shoulder with one purple-painted fingernail, and when Kanaya whirled around, brows turned up in a question, Rose stepped in like some sort of fucking seduction savant and hooked her arm around Kanaya's waist, pressing in and dipping her over her elbow like it was the easiest thing in the world. He couldn't actually watch the kiss that followed all the way through. Way too intense. Instead he turned away with a nervous chuckle, only to see right away that Karkat was definitely not suffering from the same case of the fucking vapors, or whatever it was. Watching your sister wreck someone with her tongue was weird, okay? 

The whole room was cheering, Karkat included, even though he still had red tears dribbling unchecked down his face. He was clutching a handkerchief like some kind of fancy lady, and Dave opened his mouth to actually tease him for it, that time, but the harsh clink of silverware on glass interrupted him. He snapped his mouth shut and turned to the source, which turned out to be Roxy, holding aloft a flute of sparkling cider. The cheers and whistles quieted for a speech. 

Except, Callie. 

She bounded in from behind the table tasked with proudly displaying Jane's perfect quadruple-tiered oven-bred masterpiece, and she had something held high in her own tiny green hands. It looked like a fucking lollipop?

"Oh, shit," he heard Dirk say somewhere behind him, in tones that suggested shit was expressly about to legitimately _go down,_ and then things started happening too fast to remember. 

Roxy, eyes widening, lowering the cider flute so fast that half of it slopped over the rim and soaked into her sleeve. "Callie, honey," Dave remembers her saying, faintly, while simultaneously from somewhere near the cake table, Jane wailed "Callie, _noooo._ " 

He remembers tilting his head, distinctly remembers thinking _what's the big deal about a lollipop?_ Remembers turning to ask Dirk. Karkat's expression, just as baffled as his. Callie's triumphant declaration -- _This is a happy occassion, yes? Well, I have just the thing!_

It gets real fucking blurry from there, but he's sure of one thing: In this brave new world of gods and aliens living together in utopian satisfaction, _lollipops are the most dangerous weapon of all._

* 

He's pulled the towel down from his forehead over his eyes, and is concentrating on breathing deep and even, because it's something to focus on that takes his mind off of just how thoroughly miserable he feels. Breathing in feels good, it calms his increasingly cranky guts down just the tiniest bit, but he's dimly aware that if he doesn't get up and go find something to drink soon he might actually, literally bite it. And he has no idea if his immortality is still conditional or what. Better not to risk these things, if he can help it. 

But before he can start the Herculean effort of swinging his legs out of bed, he hears the door creak open. 

"Oh, thank God," he says, pulling the towel down further over his face. It's kind of unpleasantly warm and tacky, now, infected with his own body heat, but it's better than nothing. He mumbles into it. "Karkat -- I hope that's Karkat -- if that's not Karkat speak now or forever hold your fucking peace --" 

"It's Karkat," Karkat says, sounding... amused? Dave's eyebrows pull down, but his face is still under this fucking towel so the effect is probably not at all what he's going for. Oh well. 

"You think this is fucking funny?" he demands, weakly, because he is dying. 

The door shuts with a soft little _snick_ , and Dave can see the shadow of his looming boyfriend fall over him through the towel, which is nice, because fuck the sun right now, fuck it right in its happy yellow burning gas hole. "A little," Karkat admits, and then he's lifting up the towel despite Dave's immediate protest and scrabbling fingers. Dave squeezes his eyes shut. 

"Fuck you," Dave says, because he's in no condition to be witty. 

"Hold still," Karkat advises him, and then there's another towel, and this one is nice and cool and Dave actually sighs a little as it goes down, which is fucking embarrassing, but it's out there now, no taking it back. "God," Karkat says, and he actually laughs a little, "You really do look like shit, right now. Wow." 

"Wow, yourself. Wow, thanks. Wow. Unbelievable," Dave grumbles. His mouth is so fucking dry. He still sounds like he's talking through a filter of crushed glass. "Can you, like... uh." His face heats up, which sucks because he wants this towel to stay cool as long as possible, and also, he hates being embarrassed, "You don't have to, but man, Karkat, I don't know if I can even walk and I'm _dying_ of thirst, I mean I might be dying in general, just overall backflipping into the grim reaper's tender embrace, but if he's coming for me I'd like to at least go out feeling less _overall_ shitty? If possible?" 

"Stop talking," Karkat says, and then there's a rustle of movement. "You almost sound worse than you look, which let me fucking tell you, is really saying something!" Dave squints through the towel and watches his shadow move. He doesn't go far. "I left this here for you on the table, but I guess you probably didn't notice, given that you're so busy doing backflips into the inscrutable annals of human mythology." Karkat takes Dave's wrist, drags his hand against something smooth and cool and almost definitely a glass of water. Bolstered by this, Dave manages to heave his body into some semblance of a sitting position. The towel falls into his lap. _Everything_ is sore, what the fuck? His arms, his legs, his back, his -- he furrows his brows. Clutches the glass. Downs half of it in one gulp. "Jesus, Dave," Karkat sighs at him. "If you puke that back up all over the bed I'm going to be pretty fucking unimpressed, just so you know." 

Dave considers this for a moment, shrugs, and downs the other half. Karkat shakes his head, but says nothing. Truth be told, his guts _do_ kind of heave a little, but he swallows a few times and manages to keep it down. He's still thirsty, but his brain isn't blaring dehydration warning alarms into all of his nervous receptors, anymore, so that's an improvement. He swallows again. Blinks at Karkat. What the fuck _happened,_ last night? 

Like he's reading his mind, Karkat narrows his eyes at him and says, "So. How much do you remember, exactly?" 

In that moment, Dave becomes suddenly and deeply aware that he doesn't seem to be wearing any clothes. He's wrapped up in the sheets, sure, but under the fucking swaddling he's bare as the day he was born. Actually, barer, if you can believe John's stories about that oh-so-fateful day. 

A little shiver of real unease goes through him. 

"Uh," he says. He shuts his eyes, and thinks. 

* 

He thinks it was Jane who kissed him. Why else would he be able to conjure up the memory of her wild-eyed and terrifying gap-toothed grin? It had been Jane, but also, simultaneously, _not_ Jane, because Jane had become some sort of hyper-spastic pixie in neon clothes with magenta hair sparkling with fucking sugar dust. He remembers inhaling sharply as she grabbed his shoulders. The tickle of that very same sugar in his nose and mouth. The way she even _smelled_ sweet. The startling moment he'd actually put together that she was going to kiss him, long past any point of hopeful escape. 

"You know," he thinks he remembers her saying, in this unsettling sing-song voice, "I think it's a crying shame that I've never had the opportunity to tell you how _scrumptious_ you look!" 

He thinks he thanked her, maybe, but he _definitely_ remembers thinking in paralyzed fascination, _oh shit, John's sexy sugarplum fairy-actual-mother is totally macking on me, right now?_

She'd tasted... sweet. 

Karkat had told Dave about mind honey, once. Spoke about it in simultaneously aggravated and awed tones. Described the sorts of things that could happen to you if you ever dared to actually taste it. 

Kissing sugarplum Jane was like diving face-first into an olympic sized pool of the stuff, he's pretty sure. 

It had been _amazing,_ actually. A split second of terror while he _felt_ himself dissolve under an unrelenting onslaught of buzzing energy followed by the blissful epiphany that all he had to do to make a good night perfect was pinpoint exactly what he wanted and then just fucking _do it._ Take it. Find it and be there. It turned things that had felt complicated into shit so simple he couldn't help but laugh -- and laugh, and laugh. 

God, but everything had been funny. 

John, giggling like an idiot, bouncing through the wedding party like a photon in a house of mirrors. Roxy, tackling him, licking the lollipop stuck in his stunning blonde hair. Blonde John, fucking wild. Callie, giggling madly, twirling in circles with her own lollipop waving like a magic fucking wand. Dave remembers swooping in, laughing, taking her by her free hand and swinging her around. Lifting her up and dancing to music that might or might not have _actually_ been playing. Swapping her for Jake, who had stepped in and swung _him_ around, spinning him in mid-air like some kind of debonair king of sugar-swing dancing. When had they started flying? Dave had fake-swooned and floated -- he remembers this, floating down all theatrically like a falling fucking leaf, like he was some fucking Looney Tunes character flattened like a pancake and see-sawing dramatically to the floor. 

God. 

He'd looked for Karkat, then, something tickling at the back of his addled brain. He'd wanted to dance with Karkat, but he couldn't find him, and then Roxy had joined him in falling-leaf town giggling and snorting and just fucking generally gigglesnorting with abandon, and Dave had found it so _funny_ , just so fucking funny. 

"Do you know what time it is?" she'd demanded, holding out a hand, and he'd taken it because fuck, why not, he would have taken any hand anyone offered him right then.

"Time to get totally fucking owned on the dancefloor by my own smoking hot mom," he's pretty sure he'd proudly declared, and she'd gigglesnorted again and crushed him against her and thank fucking _god_ he'd been high on fucking fairy farts because if he _hadn't_ been, he probably would have cried. This was the mother he'd dreamed about having on nights a lot less celebratory than this one, and she was holding him and the fact that she was a perfect ten on the Strider scale of relative hotness _and_ they were both lolliopped out of their fucking minds didn't really seem important to ruminate on. It still didn't. 

"You're damn fucking right," she'd sung, and where was the fucking music coming from? They'd danced for like, hours. Or maybe two minutes. It was hard to tell time while tripping tootsie pops, even for him. 

He remembered peering over Roxy's shoulder, looking for Karkat. Spotting him by the dais that Rose and Kanaya were sitting on like presiding monarchs. He had been whispering furtively to Kanaya, pointing at him, their eyes had met -- he remembers grinning, stepping away from Roxy -- but then, Rose. 

Rose. 

God, Rose. _Fuck_ , Rose, god damn. He remembers her expression, her faintly smirking lips. Her eyebrows, artfully raised. He remembers her standing up, beckoning him over, one hand on one flared hip. She had looked so fucking bemused. Looking back -- had she been playing interference for Karkat? God damn. Betrayal. He remembers taking her hands, squeezing them tight, remembers her opening her mouth and saying _something_ , remembers pressing his fingers against her painted lips and shaking his sugar-dusted head at her, hard. 

"Rose," he'd said, laughing. "Rose! Rose. Rose Lalonde-Strider-Maryam-WHATEVER. Rose -- fucking -- Loloyam. Oh my god. Rose." 

"Yes, Dave," she'd said, eternally patient. "That is my name, of a sort. A little creative on the details, but I suppose tonight of all nights, I can accept that." 

"You're married, Rose," he'd said, leaning in conspiratorially, like they were sharing a secret. She'd smiled. He remembers her eyes, blinking back tears. 

"A shocking turn of events, I know," she'd said. "I suppose I should be glad you turned up at all. We all know how you so loathe these emotional gatherings." 

"Rose, no. Rose, I never tell you this, I don't know why I never tell you this, but I love you!" He remembers saying this as casually as anything, like he was commenting on the fucking decorations, or something. Remembers her eyes widening, her lips quirking from guarded smirk to genuine smile. "I love you so _fucking_ much, did you know? Did you? Did you know? Rose, I'm so happy for you. I'm so _happy_ you're happy. I knew you'd be happy. I fucking knew it, I called it, I never told you probably and I still don't know why I never said but I swear to god, Rose, I knew from the first second!" How many people had overheard him saying this? He had no idea. Holy shit. "Don't cry, Rose," he'd said. "This is the happiest day of your life!" 

"It is," she'd agreed, and he'd twirled her around and she'd moved with him like she expected it, because nothing ever caught Rose Lalonde offguard, least of all him. "And I sincerely hope you remember every second of it." Ouch. Fuck. 

He'd thought it was hilarious at the time. "I will," he'd promised, as solemn as a hyper-active sugar fairy could be, which was to say, not very. 

"And," she'd said, dropping her voice and adding an artful little sigh, "Thank you. I love you, too. Even when you're exasperating." She'd dropped her voice even further. "And I must say -- those shades are very much an improvement. Karkat especially is sure to enjoy them, I think." 

"Karkat!" Dave had exclaimed, and he remembers in perfect detail how _thrilled_ he had been to remember his boyfriend was waiting for him at the dais. Then casting a glance around, not finding him, and honest-to-god pouting. "Where is he? We have to dance, Rose, we _need_ to. Every couple has to dance at a _wedding_ , there's _rules._ " 

"Important rules," she'd agreed, solemn as anything. 

"I'm gonna find him," he'd declared, dropping his hands, grinning in what had probably been downright maniacal fashion. 

"Please do," she'd said, purple eyes sparkling. And at this juncture, incredibly, Dave remembers swooping up to her, darting in to land a sloppy kiss on her cheek, and then shooting off in a fit of hyperactive giggles to do exactly that. 

* 

"Fuck," he groans into his hands, rubbing ineffectually at his eyes. Karkat snorts. "Fuck, nevermind. Stop this, stop fucking taking care of me, I can't survive this." He flops back down against the pillows, exhaling in a noisy huff. "I want to die. Just leave me to my totally justified fate, come on." 

There's a telltale creak and the mattress moves with Karkat's added weight. Dave scoots over to give him room to sit. "It's not like it was only you," Karkat offers. It rings a little hollow between them. Dave reconsiders his current state, his lack of clothes, all the specific places on his body that he feels are telling a tragic story of bad decisions past, and runs his hands through his hair like the overwhelmed douchebag he is. 

"What the fuck did I do?" Dave asks, and it comes out in a truly pathetic whine. He coughs. "God, Karkat, what the fuck did I do? To myself. To you. To -- I mean, to -- us?" His heart is actually hammering, now, thinking about this. He had been looking for Karkat. He'd wanted to dance, but his body is telling a story that involves a little more than twirling around on a fucking dancefloor. His shoulders scream when he sits up. His thighs are sore. His ass, good God. He's working himself up good, now, heart stuttering and clawing its way up his throat, fear settling in his already queasy guts. Jesus. What did he do? "I mean, if I hurt -- anyone, but you, if I hurt you, I think I just -- I'll jump out the god damned window right now, I swear to God, Karkat, just tell me, what did I fucking _do?_ " 

Karkat rests his hand on Dave's knee over the blankets. He pats him in a way that's probably intended to be soothing, but Dave is way too worked up for that shit, right now. "You didn't _hurt_ anyone, Dave, Jesus, calm down," Karkat says, and it feels genuine. Karkat is a terrible liar. If it wasn't true, Dave is sure he'd be able to tell. His panic subsides slightly. "Of course you didn't. Now, I won't say you didn't make a complete royal fucking ass of yourself, because you inarguably did, but if it makes you feel any better nearly every single person there was totally fucked up on cherub stimulants and I'm pretty fucking sure they all have stories just as bad as yours." 

"How bad are we talking, exactly." 

"I'm still waiting to hear what you remember before I start running my mouth about it!" 

"God," Dave sighs, covering his eyes. "I remember I told Rose I loved her." 

"Wow, Dave, what a fucking scandal," Karkat says, perfectly deadpan. Dave peeks at him from between his fingers. He has on an absolutely exasperated expression, but maybe it's a little fond, too? 

"Uh, yeah. No one needs to hear that shit, right, especially not _Rose_ , god damn. Probably ruined her night. I'll have to send an apology card, like a whole gift basket, write a seperate note for Kanaya --" 

"I promise it didn't ruin her night," Karkat interrupts, and he sounds so fucking sincere about it that it actually shocks Dave out of his rhythm, sending him tripping over his own flapping tongue. He blinks. 

"Okay," he says. 

"What else do you remember." 

"I think John's mom kissed me, man." 

"She did." Spoken flatly. Dave's lips twitch. 

"Are you jealous? Do you want me to tell you, it wasn't as good as you? Or --" 

" _No._ What else?" 

"I almost sobbed like a fucking baby all over Roxy, I guess, if you really want to know, but managed not to on account of the fact that I was totally fucking blasted out of my mind on some shit I don't even fucking fully understand, yet!" He _knows_ Karkat is trying to draw something in particular out, something involving the two of them, but -- fuck, does he even want to remember? He crosses his arms over his face at the elbows, muffling his voice into them. "Remember how you used to talk about sopor slime and mind honey and -- I don't know, fucking Faygo? I bet it was like that, just like, totally fucking _bonkers,_ dude, it was like... nothing... mattered? Nothing mattered. Nothing mattered except what I personally wanted at any given time, and like, I was already pretty fucking content, so I don't know what..." 

"You don't remember _me?_ " Karkat says, finally, and Dave drops his arms and looks at him, just looks at him. He's chewing his lip. Dave's heart rattles wearily in his ribcage. 

"I wanted to dance," Dave says, hesitantly. 

Karkat laughs. "Uh, yeah," he says. He doesn't sound upset, which is good. "What else?" 

*

He remembers chasing him. Honest to god _chasing_ him between the tables, floating after him, laughing like they were playing some kind of fantastic game. Inevitably he would catch him, Karkat couldn't run as fast as Dave could fly, and Karkat would squirm in his arms and swear at him until his face was flaming cherry red, and Dave remembers wanting to kiss him, trying. Karkat turning his face away so all his kisses landed on his cheeks, or chin, or somewhere in his hair. 

"This would be much easier," he'd said at one point, pressing their foreheads together, suspended five feet off the ground, "If you'd just let me kiss you. You'd be so much happier. You have no idea! You don't have to be embarrassed or afraid or whatever the fuck, it doesn't matter, Karkat, it's _amazing,_ you have to try, you have to let me kiss you, come on." 

"You are _not_ infecting me with your bullshit candy affliction!" Karkat had insisted, gripping him tightly, legs scrabbling uselessly in the air. "Put me _down!_ Put me down, holy shit, you're insane, you have no fucking idea how _insane_ this is! I'm going to kill her!" 

"You're not gonna kill anyone," he'd teased, kissing his forehead. Karkat had practically spasmed in his arms. 

"I will! Just wait! I'm going to find Callie and slap her with her own goddamn hell confection! How long is this going to last? Are you going to be okay? Dave -- god damn you -- _stop kissing me!_ " 

"Have I ever told you," he'd said, pressing another wet kiss to the side of Karkat's sputtering face, "How fucking cute you are? Holy shit. You're so cute. 'Course I'm gonna be okay, Karkat, I'm so okay, right now! I'm good! I'm so fucking good and if you'd just let me _kiss_ you--" 

"I'm going to bite you if you don't put me down right this shit blistering _second,_ " Karkat had announced, then, but not before blushing brilliantly and squirming a little more against him. Fuck, that had been distracting. Looking back, that's where it had all started going wrong. Karkat's entire flustered body wiggling against his, breathing hard, getting all his gears turning. His own awareness of just how fucking attracted he was to Karkat was never too far off and usually manageable, but _this_ version of him, the one with no inhibitions or appreciable filter, this guy had no fucking chance. He remembers his already racing heart fluttering in spastic joy at the thought of being with him like that, remembers his eyebrows shooting up and his hips pressing in and his hands sliding down over Karkat's jeans to paw freely at his ass. 

True to his word, Karkat had straight up bitten him, then. Not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to leave an angry red semi-circle on the exposed skin between his neck and shoulder, and more than enough to make him jerk his hands back with a little surprised gasp. Karkat had used the moment of surprise to wiggle free, and Dave only just barely caught him in time to stop him from dropping the distance to the ground. Which probably hadn't been far enough to be dangerous, but -- he hadn't been able to hold on to his concern. It floated up through his brain and became amusement, instead. Everything had been so fucking funny, god damn. Even the stinging marks on his shoulder -- hilarious. 

Dave had set him down, but before he could so much as comment on the situation, Karkat was off again, ducking under a table, gone. 

And he'd been so fucking distractable, he'd just lost himself for awhile, mingling with the others. 

"Where is Karkat?" Kanaya had asked him, hours or maybe minutes later, moving with him in elegant but obviously befuddled fashion. Somewhere by the cake table there was an explosive sound, the tinkle of glass, and the sound of John and Jane's twin giggles filling the aftermath. Roxy let out a excited woop. Someone was clapping madly. Dave furrowed his brows, thinking. 

"You know, I don't know! I thought you would know, if anyone did, Kanaya, you know he _trusts_ you. I don't think he trusts me, right now. He won't let me kiss him! Isn't that rude? I want to kiss him so bad." 

And Kanaya had coughed a bit and quirked an amused little grin at him, tilting her head. " _Should_ he trust you, Dave? You're all very cute right now, I suppose, but you're also making quite a mess." 

"I have been on my very best behavior," he'd said. "Like always." 

"Like always," Kanaya had agreed, eyebrows in her hairline. "I see. A truly compelling argument." 

"You're a beautiful bride, by the way," Dave remembers informing her. "Like, ten out of ten, would watch tie the knot again. Rose is damn lucky! And you're lucky to have Rose! Damn, how did you both get so lucky? This dress is fucking bomb, Kanaya, what the fuck? Did you make it yourself? It's so soft." He'd straight up grabbed a handful of her skirts, at that point, admiring the fabric, and she'd just put her hands on her hips and shook her head at him, blushing faintly. 

"I did make it myself, yes." 

"I want like, a thousand pillows made out of this dress," he'd announced, actually pressing his fucking cheek against it, oh my god. Someone had tapped his shoulder. Rose? 

Not Rose. 

"Hey," Dirk had said, and Dave had straightened up so fast he'd almost shot off into the air. "Bro." Something about his voice cut right through the sugar magic and hit him somewhere deep, somewhere private and personal and suddenly scared, and --

Fuck -- _God._ It's just _Dirk._

It flooded back in. Nothing mattered. He laughed, spinning around, feet leaving the floor. "What's up?" he said, admiring the way Dirk's expression never changed, not even in neon suspenders. Dedication to the craft. "Nice getup. Oh my god. You're wearing puppet clothes! Did you know that? Those are fucking puppet clothes, man, nice. Hella cute. Cherubic as fuck. Callie would love it, you should show Callie. Did you show Callie, yet?" 

Kanaya was laughing into her hands behind him, barely even trying to muffle it. Dirk shrugged. 

"She's seen, bro. And what can you do? You think I picked this?" He'd snapped his suspenders, a little despondently. "Listen. Uh. I think Karkat is worried? He just came up and started asking like, twenty fucking questions, so --" 

"Where is he?" Dave perked up immediately, eyes darting around like he expected to be able to pick him out right away. 

"I think he went back to the house?" 

Dave gasped. "But it's still so _early!_ " 

"Thank you for the information," Kanaya said. "It's not surprising. I'm beginning to feel a little worn out, myself."

"Yeah, well." Dirk winced, half-turning to survey the gaggle of giggling sugar-pixies still gathered at the cake table. "You and Rose should feel free to get out whenever. I have a feeling it's going to be a longer night for some than others." 

"Okay," Dave said, floating on his back, laughing up at nothing. "Wow. Y'all can do whatever then, like, you know I love ya, but you're being boring as _fuck_ and I ain't got time for that." 

"Please don't be too hard on poor Karkat," Kanaya called after him. Dave dismissed this with a wave, giggling to himself as she shot off toward the house. 

*

"I think I was like, a total fucking dick to you, basically all night," Dave says, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fuck. I'm so sorry, man. I was so fucked up. So fucking fucked up." 

"You really don't remember," Karkat says. He sounds... not sad, exactly, but close. He flops onto his back over Dave's legs. 

"I remember Dirk said you talked to him." 

"Yeah, uh. He was the only one of you I _could_ talk to without someone trying something crazy!" 

"Kanaya and Rose left early too, I think. Well, no. Not early. Just... uh, earlier than everyone else." 

"Kanaya had _no_ idea what to make of all that," Karkat mumbles. He's heavy over Dave's legs, but it's kind of nice, too. "I mean, it was fine. She had fun, I think? But holy fuck, Dave. You were all _insane._ " 

"Sorry." 

They just lay there for awhile, Dave quietly adjusting the towel over his face, Karkat fidgeting on his back. There's more to think about, Dave knows. More to remember, but he's purposely staying away from it, away from John's house, away from flying in through an open window, away from -- all of it. 

"I should probably try to get up," he says. 

"Mmn," Karkat responds, unhelpfully. 

"Like, I need to piss so bad I might die, for one." 

Karkat snorts. "That would probably be the like, ten bottles of fucking cider you poured down your insatiable nutrition chasm." 

"Thank god there wasn't anything alcoholic," Dave mumbles. "That's just what I needed. Fairy farts _and_ booze juice fueling my rude ass shenanigans." 

Karkat sits up, stands, and holds out a hand. Dave peers up at him with a sigh, hesistates briefly, then takes it. Karkat pulls him up. 

His stomach turns over, and blood pounds painfully against his much-abused skull, but he doesn't wobble as much as he'd worried he might and Karkat has an arm around his back, steadying him. So that's nice. "You okay?" Karkat asks him, brows furrowed. 

"Yeah," Dave says. 

"So, do you remember your speech?" 

His stomach sinks. "My what?" 

"I believe you referred to Rose and Kanaya as 'your hella sexy sister and the most bangin' ball and chain of all time.'" 

"Oh, god." He covers his face. Laughs, helplessly. "Okay. I need your help, I'm jumping out the window, after all--" 

"Firstly, I doubt you want to go making any dramatic gestures while _naked._ Secondly, you can fly, idiot," Karkat smirks. 

"Fuck, right now? I'm not sure I can." 

"I'm glad that I'm basically armed with a thousand embarrassing stories I can surprise you with at any time, now." 

"Harsh, man. Fucking harsh." 

"Assuming you survive the stairs on the way down, here, that is." 

Dave opens his mouth to make the obvious joke -- he's basically inviting it, with that opening -- but what comes out instead is: 

"I remember Dirk told me you left early. Came here. I remember the window, it was open. It was dark? I remember..." His brows wrinkle. "We, like -- I know we did something, man, I can tell, so if it was -- if I was, like, too pushy, or --" 

Karkat pushes him off gently toward where the bags they'd stuffed full of shit for the weekend are sitting together in the corner. "It wasn't like that," he says. "Get dressed, okay? We'll talk about it." 

Dave nods, a little unhappily, yanking his things out of the bag. 

*

It _had_ been dark. No one else had gone back, yet, and Karkat hadn't bothered with the lights. Probably trying not to alert anyone he was there. 

"Karkat," he'd crooned in that fucking embarrassing sing-song voice, floating in the middle of the family room. If he hadn't been one hundred percent incapable of registering negative emotion at the time, he might have thought it had been a little bit creepy, this empty house echoing with the shrieks and laughter of a far too raucous wedding party happening right outside. The lights strung up in the yard were too faint to really reach indoors, but his senses were all on hyper alert and he felt like he could see for miles even in the objective dark. "Karkat? Karkat! Karkat, come out, come out, wherever you are!" He'd laughed at that, because everything was still fucking hilarious. "What is this? Is this hide and seek? You know I'm total shit at that, I hate skulking through the dark in this shitty quiet like--" An abrupt stop. Floating in midair. His brain skipping a few tracks, re-righting itself. No, he didn't hate anything. He loved everything. He loved everyone, but he loved Karkat, especially. 

Movement down below. Floating toward it, dreamlike, smiling vacantly. "We need to _dance_ , Karkat, don't be like this! Come on. Don't leave me hanging this way, don't be rude, you don't wanna be rude to me, right? It's Rose's wedding! She's married! Karkat! Did you see them? Did you see her? Did you? She's so happy." He'd actually fucking sighed, here, the exact way Karkat always did when he got to the big declaration of love scene in his shitty books. 

"I saw her," Karkat had said, finally giving in, poking his head up from behind a couch. Dave had laughed at him, planting his hands on his hips, floating in the middle of the room. "Kanaya, too. I've never seen her so singularly ecstatic, and that includes that time when we ecto-cloned like a thousand new trolls to repopulate our fucking species, so that's saying a lot." 

Dave had held out his arms, grinning. "Okay, but you gotta dance with me. Can you hear the music? Come on! Karkat!" 

He'd just peered up at him, frowning. His eyes had glinted in the shitty light, yellow sclera reflecting what little there was like a fucking cat's. "I can't fucking fly," he'd said. 

So Dave had swooped down and taken his hands. "I can make it so you can fly," he'd promised, and Karkat had squared his shoulders and shaken his head. 

"That's not a good idea," he'd said, but Dave remembered the way his eyes had been tracing his lips, just then. It was how he'd known he'd won. 

"It's a _great_ idea, and you're going to love it! I can't believe you've been _hiding_ from me all this time, are you crazy, this is amazing, Karkat, it feels _amazing_ , I want you to just feel --" 

"Amazing?" Karkat had supplied, helpfully. 

" _Incredible,_ " Dave had said, just to be contrary, and then he'd pulled Karkat close and kissed him like the shameless little cherubic disaster he'd been at the time -- which is to say, extremely fucking thoroughly. He remembers Karkat shivering against him, tightening his fingers in the fabric over his shoulderblades, remembers the way he'd just happily bent him just slightly backward and stuffed his tongue in his mouth with absolutely no warning whatsoever. Remembers Karkat's surprised little grunt, the way his mouth opened just that little bit further. Remembers opening his eyes because he wanted to see it happen, wanted to see all of Karkat's tension and fear and shame and embarrassment drain out of him and be replaced with the bliss of lollipop oblivion. 

Remembers actual confusion registering in him when nothing happened whatsoever. 

Karkat's eyes had opened, meeting his. Their lips broke off each other, both their brows furrowing. "Huh," Karkat had said, voice a little shaky. "Well."

"Well what the fuck!" Dave had agreed, tilting his head. Karkat looked up at him, shrugging. 

"I guess it doesn't work on trolls," he'd said. He'd sounded relieved, mostly, but maybe -- just maybe -- the tiniest bit disappointed, too. 

"All right," Dave had said, processing and accepting this in an instant, because pretty much everything felt easy to accept. A thought had occured to him, then, a delightfully compelling one. "I bet I can still make you feel incredible, though." 

Karkat's eyes widened; Dave distinctly remembers him taking a step back. "Dave," he'd started. 

"And you're _going_ to dance with me," Dave had insisted, and before Karkat could answer he'd looped down out of the air and grabbed him around the waist. Karkat let out a mighty string of blistering curses, but he _also_ hastily wrapped his arms around Dave's neck, just in time to be swept into the air. 

Carrying him was the easiest thing in the world. Nothing felt like it had any weight, not in his current state, but when Dave streaked for the window, intending to carry him right back out to the party, Karkat started beating on his back in apparent distress. 

"Stop, Dave, wait, fucking -- _stop!_ " 

They'd hovered by the window, and Dave remembers clearly that all he'd been thinking about in that moment was how damn good Karkat felt in his arms. How warm he was, how solid. How much he actually, throughly, desperately loved him. How he wanted him to be happy, somehow, happy despite immunity to the magic. If it couldn't be as easy as kissing, well, he was perfectly willing and eager to do more. Heat had coiled persistently in his stomach, distracting and pleasant and all he wanted to focus on in the world. He remembers slipping his hands up the back of Karkat's sweater while they hung there in the window, spinning slowly. Not exactly dancing. Karkat's skin was so warm, smooth under his hands. The music was faint, here. Was that a violin? His heart swelled. Rose and her violin. They were so good. 

Karkat had clutched at him desperately, craning his neck to look awkwardly up at his face. Dave had grinned down at him, holding him tight. "I won't let you fall," he remembers telling him. 

"I'm not afraid of _falling_ , I'm -- I don't want to -- you're not _yourself_ , and neither are they, and I just don't want to -- everyone is kissing fucking _everyone_ , out there, it's a fucking madhouse! If I have to deal with _you_ like this I will, because it's you, but --" 

"So I'm special!" Dave had said, delighted. 

Karkat had dropped his head against his shoulder, just hanging there quietly against him. "Yeah," he'd said, finally. "God, you know that. You are. Of course you are. Even like this! I should be kicking your ass, right now! I can't believe you let her kiss you!" A pause. "You have fucking, _green_ hair, right now, did you know that? Like the world's most fucking ostentatious jadeblood! It's obscene." 

"I _do?_ " Dave had gasped, genuinely fucking thrilled. "Green? Holy shit, that's incredible. I'm incredible. Did you see John? Oh my god, Karkat, did you see him? He was blonde, blonde as fuck, he had fucking candy shit in his hair--" 

"You have... something," Karkat interrupted, laughing into his shoulder. "I don't know what they are. In your hair." 

"I _do?_ " 

"Your brother says you'll be all right in the morning, at least, but--" 

"Dirk! Yeah, my bro. Did you see him? He doesn't give a _fuck,_ does he?" A beat of quiet. "Good old bro." 

"He's the only one of you chucklefucks that managed to keep your fucking head, so that's something." 

"Hey," Dave had said, then, nebulously aware that he wanted to change the subject, but unsure of exactly why.

"Are you ever going to put me down, by the way? My arms are going fucking numb, asshole." 

"No! Hey, Karkat!" 

" _What,_ Dave?" 

"I fucking love you!" He'd giggled, again, squeezing Karkat tight against him. He remembers dipping his head down, kissing the top of Karkat's head. Burying his face in his scratchy curls. Pressing little pecks against his ridiculously adorable blunt little horns. "I love you. Karkat, I love you so _fucking_ much! Why don't I say that more? I don't know. I don't know! But I do. I love you." 

"Jesus, Dave," Karkat muttered, but his arms had tightened enough that if he hadn't been sugared to oblivion, Dave might have found it painful. "What the fuck, knock it off." 

"Did you see how happy Rose and Kanaya are? You said you saw, right? I want to be next, okay? We should be next. We should get married! We should get married right now, why not? Do you want to get married?" 

Karkat, laughing, shaking against him. "Oh my god," he'd said, amused and exasperated and so -- _him,_ Dave could hardly stand it. His body chose that moment to make _its_ desires clear, at least, and since he had absolutely no fucking shame whatsoever, Dave pressed his hips purposely against Karkat, like he was sharing some fine fucking secret. "We can't right _now_ , are you insane? Don't answer that, you obviously are. You're out of your fucking mind! Put me down, damn it, you're fucking batshit and -- I can _feel_ that, Dave -- you can't be trusted!" 

"Why not? Why the fuck not! We can. We totally could, if you wanted. Like I can say the words. I, Dave Strider, do thee wed --" 

"Stop!" Karkat started pounding at back again with one closed fist, and Dave laughed, floating them both higher. John's house was simply too fucking large. There was no reason for all these rooms. He floated them over the stairs. "Dave, if you don't stop I will absolutely kick your ass tomorrow, just wait and see, I am not above kicking you while you're down!" 

"Down? How about up?" They'd floated higher. Dave had noticed the balcony. Nice. 

"Strider, I swear to _fuck_ , I am going to _destroy_ you--" 

"But that's what I want!" He'd floated them outside and set Karkat on the balcony, seating himself on the rail. Grinned at the way Karkat's slow, creeping blush was visible even in the dark. "Yes, destroy me, Karkat, please, I'm begging," he'd said, sliding off the rail, actually going to his knees. Karkat had made a strangled noise, backing hastily away. 

"No! Absolutely -- fucking, not! Stand up!" 

"You can't back out now, come on." Blinking up at him, doing his best to be irresistable. "You want me, right? Do you? I'm cute, right? You like cute. You like it when I ask. Do you want me to beg you? I can do it. Please, Karkat, please, please, I want you so bad. I love you and I want you and I need you, I'm so fucking ready for you, I want you right here, I want you _anywhere!_ I want to get married, and I want to be your one and only, and I want you to be mine too. I want you to love me, too --"

He had still been on his knees, and Karkat's eyes had gone wider and wider with every damn word, he remembers that so clearly. His face. The way his lips parted, just a little at first, widening until he was outright gaping at him, jaw hanging open. "I do," he cut in at the last, though, interrupting. "I do. You know I do. I mean, you _know_ this, I do love you. God. Are you even going to remember this? You're going to regret this so bad, holy fuck." 

"Specifically, at this time, I want you to love my ass," Dave had said, and Karkat had choked out a desperate laugh, backing even further away. Dave just knelt there, watching him, eyes upturned. "Like, I want you to just turn me around, and --" 

" _Dave,_ holy fuck --" 

"-- Just fucking wreck me, right now, you're so good, you know, you're so damn good, did you know?" He'd laughed, a little wondrously. "I never say that, do I? I never just say what I think about you. Say what I want. I don't know why. It's so easy. Why don't I?" 

"Because it's fucking embarrassing!" 

"It's not, though! It's not even a little. I want you to like, bend me over the rail here, and --" 

"I am not doing _anything_ to you over the fucking platform barrier, you ridiculous howling shame vortex, there are people down there, and also, this is not even our hive!" 

"Listen, but, just listen. Karkat, I don't care? I don't care! I don't give a fuck. John doesn't care. John is going to be out partying all night with everyone else, right?" 

"I don't --" 

"I want you to fuck me, okay? I want you. Do you want me? You want me, right?" 

"Dave," Karkat had said, stammered, really, eyes still blown wide. "You're not -- yourself. This isn't you." 

"This is _hella_ me, Karkat, it's one hundred fucking percent me." 

"You're going to be embarrassed enough without me adding actual _actions_ to regret on top of all this totally humiliating shit you're saying!" 

"But you want me, right?" He'd tilted his head, coy as shit, smirking faintly, fingers toying with the button on his pants, the outline of his arousal clearly visible through the fabric. 

Karkat had given him a completely helpless look, eyes glinting wide in the dark. 

"Do you want me? Do you want me to? Do you want to see how bad I want you, Karkat?" 

Dave remembers perfectly the way Karkat's throat had spasmed a little when he swallowed, talk box bobbing beneath the skin. It had been fucking mesmerizing. Remembers even better the thrill that had gone through him when Karkat had dropped his chin, licked his lips, and nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Fuck _yes,_ " Dave had cheered, popping the button. 

*

They're sitting downstairs, across from each other at the kitchen table. The coffee machine is gurgling, there's a pile of eggs and bacon on a plate between them, and Dave is nibbling cautiously at a strip with his stomach gurgling in equal parts warning and interest. 

"First, I want to apologize," Karkat says, and Dave just blinks at him. 

" _You_ do?" 

"I mean, you were so..." he trails off. Starts again. "I was the one who actually had some semblance of fucking control over my faculties, so it was really my responsibility to not take advantage of you, and I fucking failed spectacularly at that one act of basic decency on pretty much every level! So yes, I do! I'm really sorry, okay?" 

"From what _I_ remember, nothing that happened was even like, ten percent your fault, and -- dude, it's fine. Don't apologize to me, holy fuck." 

"It's not fine. It's fucked up! I should have been taking _care_ of you, not letting my fucking confused bulge spasms override my better judgement!" He seems genuinely distressed, and apart from that, the volume his voice is climbing to is like an axe to the temple, right now, so Dave lifts up his hands and makes a pathetic sad sound and hopes that will communicate the point. It seems to do well enough, because Karkat cuts himself off mid-rant. 

"Okay," Dave says. "Firstly." 

"Sorry," Karkat says again, softer. 

" _Firstly_ , I don't think you took advantage, okay? I was a pushy, greedy little fuck, and, uh, I..." Turns out, shit is a lot more difficult to say without the cherub candy. "I wasn't kidding, when I told you it _was_ me. It was. That's... a lot of what I said, it's all... true. Okay?" His face is going to melt off, and it will be a merciful death. 

"... _All_ of it?" Karkat presses. 

"Pretty much? I can't think of anything I said that was like, not actually true, on some level, so, uh. Yeah. Congratulations, that's what I'm actually like, I guess, under all the fucking bullshit, and also, hopped up on space drugs? I don't think that shit made me... different, exactly. Like, yeah, but I wasn't going to do anything I didn't actually want to do? It was just... uh, normally, my brain will _occasionally_ say hey, dipshit, it's probably not a good idea to _actually_ do that thing you want to do, or say that thing you're thinking, so -- at least for the more totally egregious shit -- so, uh, yeah?" 

Karkat chews on this quietly for awhile, and Dave takes the opportunity to duck his head and push the food around on his plate a bit with his fork. He thinks he can probably keep it down, which is nice. Karkat doesn't touch anything, and Dave never really does well with prolonged silences, so inevitably he puts his fork back down and clears his throat.

"You are so fucking lucky that shit doesn't work on trolls." 

"God, I know. Can you imagine?" Karkat shakes his head, chuckling ruefully. "We'd never be able to show our faces in public again. No one saw us, by the way. I made sure." 

"And please tell me that wasn't anyone's room." 

"Definitely _not,_ " Karkat says, and the look of horror on his face is at least a little bit comical. 

"Cool," Dave says. "So." 

"So?" 

"So we're okay?" Dave asks, directing the question to his plate because he can't bring himself to look Karkat in the eye. He remembers what happened, next. It had been -- uh, something. Incredible? Something. His face heats up as he pages through the blurry lens of his recollection. God damn. 

"We're okay," Karkat agrees. Dave chances a quick glance up at him, and sees that he has his chin resting in one hand, lips curved faintly upward. His heart squeezes, hard. _I love you_ , he thinks, but the words get stuck halfway between his brain and his tongue and he chokes on them silently. He remembers how easy it had been to say last night, how simple it had been, and for a second he's frustrated -- _why_ is it so hard now? What is he so fucking afraid of? _Why_ does his face heat up like this when he even thinks about saying something they both already know? Karkat likes when he says it! For fuck's sake! 

"Dave," Karkat's voice cuts in, and Dave realizes his face is all pinched together and emotionally constipated. He smooths it out with effort. "Chill," Karkat says, gesturing at the food. "And eat something, okay? You've been nibbling at that same piece of oinkbeast belly long enough." 

*

Excitement flooded through all of Dave's already maxed out positive emotion centers at the way Karkat focused wholly and completely on his ridiculous little show. Dave shimmied his obnoxious piss-yellow pants halfway down over his hips, and Karkat's eyes drank in every damn detail. Dave relished the way Karkat exhaled so fucking loudly when he drew his dick right out of his sugarplum boxers. They were pink, too. Nice. He should wear pink more, he remembers thinking, he probably looks amazing. Irresistable. He remembers the look on Karkat's face, just then, a little terrified, a lot intrigued, and totally unable to look away from the sight of Dave stroking his fingers lazily up and down the shaft. "It's good, right?" He said, encouraging, and only then did Karkat's eyes flicker up back to his face. 

"Dave," had been all Karkat said, hesitantly. 

"Karkat," Dave replied, moaning it, really, drawing it out in this totally wanton fucking way, where had he even learned that? "I want you so bad. Look at this. Look at me. Do you see? You do this to me, you don't even have to try." Stroking up and down, gripping tight. His hips wiggled, pushing his waistband further down around his legs. His knees were cold against the floor. "Come on, Karkat... you want to help, right? You want to touch me? I want you to touch me, I want it so bad. I want to touch _you._ Do you want me to? I want to taste it, Karkat, you always taste so fucking good." 

"Oh, my god," Karkat choked out, then, waving his hands in frantic denial. "Stop, no, don't -- don't say shit like that!" 

"Nooo," Dave drawled out, teasing, fingering the head of his cock, pinching gently at the skin there. "Don't be _embarrassed_ , it's not embarrassing! It's just the truth! You _know_ it's the truth. Why don't we just tell each other? You like it when I suck it for you, right? Don't shake your head at me, _Karkaaaat,_ come on, don't be like that!" He laughed. Karkat only shook his head harder, covering his face with both hands.

"I'm going to fucking die," Karkat informed him, muffled through his fingers. 

"Come over here, okay? Come touch me, please? Touch me like this." He gripped himself harder, pretending it was Karkat's hands instead of his own. He was turned on enough that there was already moisture beading at the tip, slicking him up with every stroke. "Karkat..." 

Dave could actually pinpoint the exact moment Karkat well and truly gave in. He dropped his hands, bit his lip, flicked his gaze from Dave's busy hands to his eyes and then back again, shook his head once, like he was trying to clear it, and then he took the first inevitable step forward. Dave, whose tongue was poking out slightly in concentration, now, his self-administered attentions eliciting little gasps from him, raised his brows and straightened his shoulders and twitched his hips forward, inviting. 

Karkat crossed the space between them remarkably quickly, considering his earlier hesitation, and the second he he was near enough Dave reached out the hand that wasn't currently carressing his cock and looped it around the back of Karkat's knee, instead. He blinked up at him, smiling beatifically. "Well, hi there," he said, a little breathless. 

Karkat's eyes darted around a little wildly. "No, fuck you. We should -- we can't do this here!" 

"Okay," Dave said, dropping his hand down to fondle his balls, instead. "But consider: We totally can? We kind of already are? Do you want to touch me? Or should I just--?" The hand around the back of Karkat's leg slid up. Dave knelt up straight, sliding his fingers up Karkat's thigh, coming to rest lightly over his crotch. He loved the _sounds_ Karkat made, even just at this -- he pressed his palm in heavier over Karkat's _definitely_ unsheathed bulge, and he made this exquisite _mnngh_ sound, hips twitching involuntarily. "See? That's already so good, right? Let me see you." 

Karkat moved to unbutton his pants, and Dave practically bounced on his knees in front of him, licking his lips in anticipation. "Yeah," he encouraged him, lifting his chin, practically mouthing at him over the fabric of his pants. When Karkat finally freed himself, pushing his boxers frantically down just enough, Dave left off his own pleasure and shoved his hands eagerly down the back of Karkat's jeans, squeezing his ass. God, he loved Karkat's ass. "I love your ass," he said, because why not?

"Shut up," Karkat pleaded. 

"It's gotta be the most squeezable ass in existence, I can't imagine a more perfect ass!" He punctuated this with another squeeze. Karkat's bulge curled in the space between it and Dave's eager mouth, and Karkat pushed his hips forward just enough to close the distance. Dave leaned in, planting sloppy, sucking kisses down around the base. "Fuck," he murmured against it, fingers sliding between his perfect cheeks in search of a certain spot. Karkat started up his usual, predictable string of breathy curses, one hand on Dave's shoulder to steady them, the other sliding roughly into his hair. Green hair! Holy shit. Fucking amazing. He licked eager circles around the edge of Karkat's already dripping sheathe, sliding his tongue in between the pulsing base of his bulge and the swollen skin around it. 

"Oh, my god," Karkat groaned, and his hips jerked up and his bulge twitched spastically at the same time. 

"Fuuuuck, Karkat," Dave moaned into his skin. "I love this!" He licked back up, moving with his bulge, loving how slick it was, how wet, shuddering with translucent red genetic fluid, coating his mouth, his tongue. "I fucking love this, I love doing this, I love the way you move, I love the way you _taste_ , you taste -- incredible --" 

" _Stop_ , Dave, Jesus Christ, you -- _no_ , don't stop with, _that_ , just stop _talking_ , please, please, please stop talking, just --" 

"Do you want me to suck it for you?" he looked up, blinking innocently, fluttering his fucking lashes like a god damn coquette, straight out of his books. He made another gratifying little _nngh_ sound, and tightened his fingers in Dave's hair. "Do you want me to? I want to. Tell me to suck it for you, okay? Tell me. Tell me you want it, I want you to want it, you want it, right? You want me?" He licked his lips. "Do you want me, Karkat?" 

"I want you," Karkat said. His cheeks were _blazing._ Dave was bouncing on his knees again, delighted. 

"Tell me," he insisted. 

"I just fucking did!" 

"No, no, no, tell me, be specific, I want to _hear,_ " Dave demanded. Simultaneously, he slid one finger suggestively over his opening from behind, teasing possibilities. Karkat went from lovely little noises to an outright _growl_ , but Dave just kept right on batting his sugar shocked eyes upward. 

"Okay! Okay, fuck, _fine,_ I -- I want it! I want you to -- suck it for me, okay? Please?" 

"Suck your bulge?" Dave grinned, leaning in, brows arched. 

"Suck my bulge, god damn you, just _do_ it, I can't fucking believe we're doing this, I can't -- someone could _see_ , we're outside, Dave, this is crazy, this is totally fucking -- _ah,_ oh, fuhhgh, _fuck,_ fuck, fuck!" 

Dave slid his lips down the red-slicked surface, taking in as much as he could, eyes wide and watching Karkat's face. Karkat slapped a hand over his mouth, moaned muffled expletives into his palm, and Dave worked valiantly at getting his squirming bulge to slide down his throat without choking or gagging or both. It was no easy task -- the damn thing was wriggly as fuck and hard to keep down. He moaned around it, still working over the sensitive skin around Karkat's hole with his fingers, and it was so fucking good, so good, so fucking _good._

For awhile, there was nothing but the sound of Karkat's raspy, muffled pleasure and Dave's wet, throaty grunts of effort, mingling with the faint, far-off sounds of excessive celebration. Dave could pick out specific voices now and then, but he was so far past caring for so many reasons it barely registered. Karkat, on the other hand -- 

" _Fuck,_ " he gasped, when one of John's whooping hollers sounded a little louder, a littler closer than usual. He jumped back, and Dave made a needy, bereft sound, sputtering as Karkat practically yanked his face off his bulge. He knelt there, wheezing a bit, spit and slurry dribbling all down his chin. 

"Just ignore 'em," Dave suggested. "Come on, Karkat, let me finish... I wanna finish you off, okay? Let me just--" 

"No, holy shit, I can't fucking believe we -- _no._ " Karkat blinked, hard, yanking his pants back up. Dave made a truly pathetic, mournful sound. 

"Noooo, Karkat, let me just, you were close, I can tell when you're close! Just a little more, okay? Let me back in there, I'll make you come, I want you to just like, wreck my face, okay?" 

But Karkat was already shaking his head, reaching down, gripping the front of Dave's pink fairy costume and pulling him up stumbling to his feet. This was patently hilarious, because Dave's own pants were still open, his dick bouncing cheerfully. Dave laughed himself breathless against Karkat, the taste of him still thick and tangy on his tongue. He tilted his jaw up and kissed Karkat deeply, plunging past his lips and teeth, begging his mouth to open wider with the way he worked his lips. Karkat made this startled grunting sound, but he kissed him back -- maybe on instinct -- and Dave slid their tongues together, making sure he could taste it. Karkat swayed against him. Dave broke off first, clapping his hands to either side of Karkat's bewildered face. 

"I know you like tasting yourself," he said, conspiratorially, and Karkat made a truly strangled sound, pushing him off hard. Dave laughed, stepping back slightly, but he didn't go far.

"I cannot _believe_ you, right now! Holy shit!" 

"There'd be a lot more to taste if you would just let me _finish_ you," Dave said, reaching down, slicking his palm over Karkat's bulge, which had been curling and uncurling in hypnotizing rhythm between them. Karkat grabbed his wrists, lifted them away, and yanked him back against him. 

"Can we please just find a fucking room," he pleaded, and Dave noted that he was actually fucking shivering, tense and totally overwhelmed. Dave kissed his forehead, gently. 

"I'll carry you," he said. Karkat laughed, but it was pitched a little high, a little desperate. 

"Fine," he agreed. "Carry me! Just take me somewhere _private_ , and I'll let you do whatever you fucking want!" 

_Oh, shiiiiit,_ he remembers thinking, his mind veritably exploding with possibilities. He lifted Karkat up, and the way he clung tight to him and his bulge squirmed needily against his stomach, fuck. Dave whisked him into what he _hoped_ was an unoccupied guest room, kicking the door shut behind him, because he was sure Karkat's definition of privacy probably meant the doors had to be shut. 

He dropped Karkat on the bed, and just hovered there for a minute over him, appreciating the view. "You've got to let me feel you up while we're flying, some time," he said, and Karkat just blinked at him, frowning. "I think I just straight up discovered a new kink I didn't even know I had, and that's you clinging to me while we're fuck-high off the ground, and I can feel you all up against me, squirming and shit, and I just like reach my hands in, and --" 

"While this is _truly_ fascinating," Karkat said, talking frantically over him, "I think we were already in the middle of something, Dave!"

"Oh yeah," he says, giggling maniacally. "Yeah!" He floated down, lowering himself like a fucking elevator platform. When he was close enough to grab, Karkat did exactly that, yanking him down the rest of the way to press up close against him. Dave rolled their hips together and reached down between them to direct Karkat's bulge exactly where he wanted it -- right up against his own dick, hot and wet and shivering against it, curling around him of its own accord. Karkat made a pleased noise and ground up eagerly, matching his rhythm, spreading his legs wide. "You like this?" Dave asked, peppering his face and neck with insistent kisses. Karkat sighed, hips moving, hands smoothing down Dave's back. 

"I love this," Karkat said -- quiet, embarrassed, but he _said_ it, and Dave let out a pleased little giggle and pressed his hands to either side of Karkat's face. Karkat met his eyes, and Dave smiled, his thumbs moving over his cheeks. 

"You're getting sugar in your hair," Dave informed him, rocking a little faster. "You look all, uhm, sparkly, ah, it's -- _adorable_ \--" 

"Shut up," Karkat breathed, eyes fluttering shut. Dave slid his hands up into his hair, tangling his fingers in it, rubbing around the base of his horns. 

"I wanna... uhn, I want to ride you, Karkat, can I --? Fuck, I need you up inside me so bad, I _need_ it -- or, what would be better, it would be better if you flipped us over, I wanna just wrap my legs around you, okay? I want to wrap my legs around you and your arms around me and I wanna feel you, I wanna feel you come, I want you to fill me up, I want to just fucking, ugh, ah, _oh,_ fuck, I love your fucking _bulge!_ " 

Karkat said nothing to that at all, but he _did_ sit up, folding them both up, cradling Dave against him even as he reached down to unceremoniously untangle their junk. Then, looking him up and down, he grimaced and plucked Dave's shades off, too. Dave blinked. The room, dark as it was, seemed bright as fucking day without his shades on, and -- 

"Oh my god," he gasped, staring at them. 

"Yeah. You didn't know?" Karkat held them up, dangling them in front of his face. "Fucking unbelievable." 

"Fucking _incredible!_ " Dave agreed, and then he actually clapped his hands together in unconstrained joy. "I can't fucking believe I've been wearing those bonkers badass hearts on my face all night and no one said a damn thing, holy shit! They're so fucking _stupid!_ I love them!" 

"Insane," Karkat muttered, setting them on the side table. 

"I cannot fucking believe you let me _blow_ you with those on," Dave continued, and Karkat let out one of the most frustrated groans he'd ever heard. 

"Shut up! Neither can I! I wasn't thinking straight! Obviously! Do you want to talk about it, or do you want me to fuck you, Dave?!" 

"Fuck me," Dave decided immediately, no hesitation required. "Fuuuck yes, Karkat, fuck me, fuck my ass, fuck me stupid, fuck me, _please._ " He climbed in closer as he said this, draping his arms over Karkat's shoulders, seating himself high in his lap, knees just barely touching the mattress on either side. He dipped down, kissed him in a frenzy. "Fuck me," he murmured against his lips. "Fuck my blitzed out sugarplum candy ass up." 

Karkat scoffed at this, but that didn't matter as much as him yanking Dave's legs up, unbalancing him so that he fell flat on his back in front of him. This achieved, he immediately set about yanking Dave's pants down -- all the way, this time -- and in the midst of doing this he growled, "Take that shit off, Dave, fuck." 

"What, this?" Dave plucked at his pink shirt, grinning. "I don't know, I kinda like it? I look damn good in pink, don't I? This shit is _cute_ , Karkat, holy shit, I am so fucking adorable?" 

"Dave, take the fucking shirt off!" 

"Okay!" He arched his back and yanked it up over his head, squirming to get it free. "Are you gonna do yours? I want to see you. Let me see you, please?" 

Karkat tossed Dave's pants carelessly over the side of the bed, took a deep breath and nodded, running his eyes all over Dave's body. Dave waggled his eyebrows, lifting his arms up over head head and crooking the elbows to rest the back of his head on his hands. Karkat sighed at this pose, but it didn't stop him from disrobing, and that was the important part. Fuck, he was so hot. Dave's hips squirmed a little just watching, snickering softly at the way Karkat avoided his eyes until he was completely done. 

"You're so fucking sexy, Karkat," Dave sighed, smiling up at him. "I love looking at you, you know that? I could just look at you forever, fuck." 

"Well," Karkat said, grabbing Dave by the hips, "I could do the same to you, but right now I think I'd really rather touch you." 

"Hah, yeah? Damn, Karkat, are you sure you didn't breathe in a little sugar dust, after all?" his eyebrows waggled madly. Karkat dipped his head down and pressed a kiss over Dave's belly button, wet and sloppy. Dave reached one hand down, fully intending to touch himself with it. His dick was hard and aching and sticky from his previous ministrations, and it _needed_ to be touched. But Karkat caught his hand halfway down, shook his head and pinned it to the side with his. Dave let out a little whine, arching his hips up. "Touch me," he begged. "Touch me, okay? Karkat? I need it, Karkat, I need you to _touch_ me, please..." 

"God," Karkat lifted his face with a wet little _smack_ , moving further up Dave's body. "Stop whining." 

"Touch me," Dave repeated. Karkat ran his tongue over a nipple, and Dave's back arched up off the bed. Karkat lapped eagerly at him, and it was like a spark of electricity ran from there to his dick every time his tongue touched him. He groaned, squeezing Karkat's hand where it still trapped his, hard. Karkat squeezed back, lips moving over Dave's skin, up, up, kissing up the sensitive skin around his throat, up the side of his face, down his jaw. "You're such a, agh, fucking, _ahh_ , romantic, Karkat," Dave moaned, pressing his hips up, searching for friction. Karkat kissed his lips, kissed him deeply, thoroughly, until their moans mingled in each other's mouths. 

"What, so, magic cherub Dave suddenly doesn't have time for romance?" Karkat teased, blinking down at him. 

"Ahh, noooo, Karkat, no. I didn't say that! I love romance! Specifically, I love it when you romance _me_ , just fucking -- sweep me off my feet, like, whatever, you can be the knight, I'll be the princess, that's fine, I can dig it, dress me up and put me in a fucking tower, Karkat, but right _now_ I really need you to fuck me senseless!" 

"I don't know about the rest of that bullshit, but that _last_ part, maybe..." 

"That's the most important part, okay?" 

Karkat's bulge was rubbing up against him, now, questing out between his thighs. Karkat lifted Dave's hips up, hauling him further into his lap, and as promised, Dave wrapped his legs around him, crossing his ankles against his back. Karkat bit his lip, reached down and guided himself in. 

"Yes, yeah, fuck _yes_ ," Dave chanted, practically quivering, loving the sensation. Karkat's bulge started thin at the tip, wriggling its way easily into him, slick and wet with genetic material, but the further it went, the thicker he got, and -- "Oh, _fuuuck,_ " Dave groaned, legs tightening around him. "Yes! More! All of it, fuck, I want it all, I want it _deep_ , yes, ah, _shit!_ Karkat!" It was stretching him, now, and further in he could feel it moving, feel the tip curling, writhing inside him. Karkat slumped heavily over him on hands and knees, Dave's legs still wrapped tight around his hips, and pressed their bodies close, skin to skin. The sensation of his dick trapped between their rocking bodies -- _fuck._ " _Yes,_ " Dave sighed into his ear and slid his arms around his neck, moving frantically. "Karkat!" 

"Dave," Karkat gasped back, moaning incoherently, beads of sweat sliding down his neck. Dave guided him with gasps and whispers, sometimes directing, sometimes begging, and Karkat held him close and kissed his face and curled his bulge against that spot, the fucking _spot!_ Dave babbled at him, voice high and breathy. The closer they got the fuller he felt, and it was too good, too good, his brain simply could not fucking _handle_ how _good_ everything was. He squeezed his eyes shut, full body shuddering, whimpering and writhing, toes curling so hard his legs shook, feeling it build, build, tight in his belly, and -- " _Fuck!_ " he gasped. " _Karkat,_ " he choked out, releasing, dick spasming between them. 

Karkat lifted himself up, growled something low under his breath, and just -- "Oh, god! Oh my god!" Dave clutched at his arms, fingernails digging in. Too much. This was too much, too much, not even the fucking magic candy drugs could blunt this fucking assault on his senses, too fucking much -- "Karkat!" 

"I'm, ah, Dave, I'm here, I, I'm--" 

"Do it," he demanded, desperately. "Do it, Karkat, come for me, come _in_ me, fill me up, come on, come _on,_ " he gasped, jerking his hips up, matching Karkat's desperate thrusts, crying out in unfiltered abandon every time he curled up inside, every time he thrust in, every time he hit that _fucking spot._

And then, _mercifully_ , Karkat's fingers tightened in his hair, he groaned his name, his bulge swelled inside one last time and then released, and, holy fuck. Holy fuck! Dave's eyes flew open wide, it was so _much_. His hips jerked back, part of his brain sparked in instinctive panic, but that passed quickly and left him just... full. Full and overstimulated and giggling _ridiculously_ with tears in his eyes. Holy shit. 

"Oh my god," Karkat groaned against him, collapsing bonelessly on top of him. Dave swallowed, blinking up at the ceiling, arms wrapping around him. There was sweat slicked all down his back. So good. "Dave, holy shit, are you okay?" He lifted himself up on his elbows, like he was going to get up, and Dave nodded his head yes, yes, yes, dragging him back down against him. 

"Don't -- hey. Karkat, don't get up. Don't... move, okay? Don't move." 

"Dave..." Karkat breathed, stilling as ordered. "What is it?" 

"I just," Dave exhaled, loudly. "I want to feel this as long as I can, okay? Let me just..." 

"God," Karkat whispered, but he didn't argue. His bulge shivered inside him, and Dave made a little pathetically bereft noise when it inevitably retracted itself. Karkat kissed him quiet, kissed his lips, his cheeks, his eyelids. "I can't stop that from happening," Karkat said into his hair. 

"I know," Dave sighed, wiggling against him. "But it was so nice, wasn't it? Ah, fuck." His ass was dribbling Karkat's material into a fucking puddle beneath them. Nice. "It was so nice. Did you like it?" 

"Yes, Dave," Karkat said, shoulders shaking. "I liked it. Uh. A lot. I just, I hope..." 

"You hope...?" 

"I... nothing," he said. He kissed him, again. "Nothing. I love you." 

"I love you!" Dave agreed, curling his legs so his ankles pressed against the backs of Karkat's. "I love you so much. So much. So fucking much, Karkat! Holy shit!" He lifted his head up to kiss him, again, humming out a pleased little sound when Karkat kissed back. "Let's just spend all night here like this, is that cool? Can we? Just hold me, okay? Oh, and kiss me, you have to kiss me, too." 

"Whatever you want, Dave," Karkat said, softly. A little prickle went through him, something wasn't right, but he couldn't pin it down and anyway, Karkat had promised to kiss him _all night long._ He smiled. 

"Kiss me," Dave said, and he did. 

* 

They're laying together on a freshly flipped mattress, watching the moon creep across the patch of sky through the open window. Dave's entire body is still sore, but apart from that and a few stray stomach flutters now and then, he actually feels pretty good. He has Karkat's hand squeezed tight in his, and for a little while there's nothing but the sound of their breathing. Some made it out better, some worse, but Dave isn't really thinking about the others, right now, not when he has a head full of memories he can't seem to stop replaying no matter how hard he tries. 

It's embarrassing, obviously. Humiliating. But, also... 

_I love you,_ he thinks. Wills himself to say it. Sighs. Karkat shifts beside him. 

"You okay?" he asks, and Dave's heart flutters. Fuck. It's so fucking embarrassing how easily he does that to him. 

"I was just thinking, I guess." 

"About?" 

"I don't know, man. A bunch of stuff. Last night, mostly." 

Karkat nods, scooting a little closer, so their sides press together. Dave gives his hand another squeeze. 

"It's not... bad. I mean, they aren't bad thoughts." 

"I've been thinking about it, too." 

"Yeah?" 

"It's kind of hard _not_ to, considering!" Karkat gestures around with his free hand. "But..." 

"So, like. What would you say, iiiif, maybe. I wasn't like. Totally one hundred percent opposed to doing it again?" He holds his breath. 

Karkat, meanwhile, exhales loudly. "I would say... _if_ we talked about rules, and boundaries, and we could be somewhere where we were sure that we were _totally_ alone..." 

"Yeah, yeah, definitely," Dave agrees. Excitement flutters in his stomach. "If we did all that...?" 

"Then yeah," Karkat says. "Yeah, I -- yeah."

"Cool," Dave says, softly. "Sounds good."

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at [@landofsomethingsomething!](http://landofsomethingsomething.tumblr.com)


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